Bring Your Own A4? I Brought the Company Bankruptcy Instead

I glanced at the clock in the bottom right corner of my screen. Less than two hours remained before the Gyrfalcon Project submission deadline.

The 300-page proposal on the screen represented three months of blood, sweat, and tears from my entire team.

As the thought crossed my mind, I instinctively dug my fingernails into my palms, leaving deep red marks. The office was empty, and the only sound present was the rhythmic clacking of my fingertips against the keyboard.

For this project, we'd been pulling all-nighters for a week straight. Last night, Jason Scott was pale from stomach pain, yet he pushed through until past midnight.

Earlier, I'd sent everyone home to rest and promised with full confidence that I'd handle the final wrap-up myself.

Now, it was just me and the cold words on the screen, while the sky beyond the window darkened by the minute.

"Done!"

When the final period fell into place, I checked every data point three times to make sure every number was flawlessly accurate.

A rush of heat shot straight to my head. This 200-million-dollar contract was ours for the taking!

I practically leaped out of my chair and slammed my knee into the desk, but I barely felt it. Grabbing the USB drive that stored all our work, I bolted out of the office like a madman.

In the administrative office, Lydia Reed was touching up her makeup with a compact mirror.

"Lydia! I need paper! It's an emergency!" I burst into the office and slammed the drive onto her desk.

After listening to my breathless explanation, she took her sweet time picking up a nail file and started working on her nails, not even bothering to look up.

"To stop you low-level staff from taking advantage and stealing company resources, there's been a policy for a while now that you have to bring your own paper. Wait? Did that memo not reach the employees of your grade yet?"

My temper flared. "B-Bring our own paper? This is the 200-million-dollar Gyrfalcon Project that has to be mailed by 6.00 pm tonight!"

She shrugged, looking utterly indifferent. "Whatever. We're out of paper."

I was shaking with rage as I pointed to the literal mountain of paper stacked behind her. "Aren't those papers?"

"Oh, they are," she said, standing up and crossing her arms.

After walking over to the stack, she intentionally patted a box. "But this is reserved for people who actually matter.

"Who do you think you are, Elliot Ward? You're at the bottom of the performance rankings, yet you have the nerve to demand resources."

She leaned closer and lowered her voice. Every word she spoke cut deep as she continued, "If I were you, with such a pathetic track record, I'd have quit out of shame by now. Just pack your bags, leave, and stop embarrassing yourself!"

She had no idea that my projects always ended up being credited to the CEO's brother-in-law.

Suddenly, my phone rang with a call from Jason.

"Elliot, did you send the files yet? The print shop says that if we don't get there soon, they can't finish the binding in time!"

There was noise in the background from our team anxiously discussing binding details.

My throat felt like something was stuck in it, and I could barely get a word out.

"You hear that? Your little grunts are desperate, so better figure out how to get your paper."

Lydia leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed and tapped her high heel against the floor. "It's not that I won't help, but I can't break company rules. And you…"

She dragged out the words, like a predator toying with its prey. "You're not important enough for me to break them."

With that, she picked up a stack of documents and fanned herself, the paper rustling loudly. "Honestly, you low-level managers are always asking for resources.

"200 million dollars? You make it sound like it's true, but try collecting payments from the last quarter before you start talking big."